


Air From My Lungs

by thesafesthands



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Also the WS has kind of a monologue at the beginning, Basically: what would have happened if Steve didn't start breathing again, Because he loves the sound of his own voice I guess (or not), I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Mentions of asthma, Natasha is enjoying herself more than she should tbh, Or At Least I Tried, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post CATWS, Sam is scarred for life btw, The Winter Soldier is just a crack-proof motherfucker /sigh, This was supposed to be crack but it turned out slightly more serious than I intended, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2187000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesafesthands/pseuds/thesafesthands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the Winter Soldier breaks out of his reprogramming, dives into the Potomac river and drags Captain America out one-handed like a bamf, only for the little punk to dare giving him the fright of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Air From My Lungs

**Author's Note:**

> List of people I blame for this:
> 
> \- tumblr  
> \- [this ask](http://holahydra.tumblr.com/post/95390520546/okay-but-can-you-imagine-if-steve-actually-didnt-start) and the crack gifs I made in reply  
> \- not myself  
> \- nope  
> \- marvel
> 
> (Title's from 9's famous line "I give you air from my lungs" to celebrate the return of Doctor Who tonight, woohoo)

* * *

He is not breathing.

Looking down at the unconscious man, water dripping from his hair, the Winter Soldier is trying and failing to contain his rising panic.

Less than an hour ago his whole world had come crashing down at the realization that he _knows_ this man (the word _'punk'_ immediately comes to mind for some unknown reason) and that however he's been ordered to neutralize him, the Soldier _can't_. Something in the man's last words before he fell had struck a place deep inside the Soldier, where even he can't reach and get the chance to analyse the emotions, to grasp them and prod at them until they've revealed all their secrets and their meaning to him. He had only been able to stand there frozen like a statue, letting the unknown feeling wash over him like a tidal wave, breaking every resolution about finishing the mission in it's wake.

So he'd decided to spare the man — for now — because the Soldier has questions and he only trusts this man to give him truthful answers.

But what is the Soldier going to do if the man dies anyway? Because, he _is_ not breathing.

The Soldier whimpers, because he feels too vulnerable with his broken arm hanging limply at his side and shooting pain down his spine with every move he makes, which makes the other arm, the metal one, feel heavier because he can't balance the weight like he used to with two functioning arms. And he's still watching the man intently, reluctant to blink, waiting for the moment where the man in his brightly-colored suit will finally start breathing again.

 _Come on_ , the Soldier thinks, gritting his teeth.

He needs to go. HYDRA agents will be crawling all over the place in a moment to collect their asset, or the man's associates will comes to rescue him and the Soldier can't let any of them catch him. Not HYDRA. Never again. The Soldier knows he's broken out of whatever they'd done to him to make him so complacent and ready to obey, but he won't do it again, he _won't_ , they can all go shove their _fucking_ weapons where the sun never shines and stay the hell away from him or he'll break the neck of the first agent that dares try to take him back.

"Breathe," he says at the unconscious man, and can't help wincing when it comes out like a plea rather than an order.

The Soldier looks furtively around them, making sure that nobody is watching them from the other side of the river where part of the wreckage has crashed and is still burning, or spying on them from the top of a nearby tree. When he's made sure they are all alone, the Soldier drops to his knees and hovers over the lying man, right arm still clutched at his side while he extends the metal one, unsure of what he's trying to do.

"Steve," he says, and he doesn't know how he knows that name — the man had spent the whole time trying to convince the Soldier that he's someone called James Buchanan Barnes but not once had he thought useful to give the Soldier his _own_ name — but it feels right to call him that. More so, it tastes familiar on his tongue, the sonority of it reassuring to his ear.

"Steve, you have to breathe." The Soldier remembers saying that before, a lifetime ago, and he also remembers hearing somebody struggling to speak through a coughing fit.

 _"I'm okay, Buck, I just need to-"_ And then more strangled sounds between coughs.

"If you don't shut up and breathe I'm gonna go over there and give you the kiss of life. 'S that what you want, Stevie?"

The Soldier blinks owlishly when the words tumble out of his mouth, unable to stop them, unable to even control what he's saying.

_"That sounds (cough) interesting (cough)."_

"Don't test me, punk."

The Soldier gives up on trying to make sense of what is happening to him, and instead chooses to listen to the memory of that tiny voice inside his head and his own replies, the tone laced with apprehension and worry, and...excitement? The Soldier's voice is rough and his tone flat and lifeless, but inside his head the other him sounds different, and that's all he can hear.

The blond man lying at his feet still hasn't moved, hasn't shown any sign that he's alive and that the Soldier didn't drag him out of the river and damaged his metal arm (the  _only_ weapon he's got left) a little further in the process for _nothing_.

The Soldier decides that he did _not_ do all of that for nothing. And that he's _not_ going to let this... his... _Steve_ die on him after all the trouble and pain he's gone through to save him (including saving him from the Soldier himself). "Steve," he half-barks, half-whines, and it's desperate and raw and it hurts his throat to speak too loud because he's never been allowed to speak much and he's physically unable to do so without hurting but he bears it now, because he _has_ to find a way to reach to this man.

Reaching with his metal arm, shiny fingers extend and spread right above the man's face, and the Soldier knows his sensors would register if the man's breathing because even though it's not flesh and bone anymore (and when and how did that happen?), the Soldier can still feel many things with it — it _is_ a highly effective weapon, HYDRA's best work he's heard the agents say, even when slightly damaged.

But nothing comes tickling the sensors hidden in the pads of his fingers, and if the Soldier was feeling panic rising a moment before, he is now completely _freaking out_.

_"Bucky, I don't know what's happening, I... I think I can't breathe."_

_"You seem to be doing just fine to me."_

_"But I need... I think I need you to do it, like last time."_

_"Last time, huh? You mean, this?"_

The Soldier's bearth suddenly leaves his lungs when he feels the ghost of feather-soft lips pressing against his mouth. The memory feels like someone else's dream, and he can hear laughter and the sound of covers shifting and bodies wrestling and quiet gasps in an otherwise silent room and it's suddenly too much.

"You manipulative _shit_ ," the Soldier snarls, metal fingers curling into a fist, " _fucking_ breathe, already!"

And before he knows what he's doing, he slams his fist right in the middle of the man's chest. Then a miracle happens, and the man's eyes are suddenly fluttering open and he's coughing, and the Soldier naturally (?) helps him roll to his side to help him spit all the water inside his lungs. The man moans and sweats a lot and the Soldier again doesn't question it when he leans over the man a bit more and carefully, _very carefully_ uses his metal hand to plaster the man's wet hair to the back of his skull, keeping it out of his eyes and giving him something to lean his forehead on while he's busy vomiting what looks like half of the Potomac river.

When the coughs and the hiccups finally subside and the man, _Steve_ , takes a long gulp of air, only then does he turn slowly around, squinting up at the Soldier who's still looming over him.

"Buck...?" The man says, voice quivering and small, as if unsure of what he's seeing.

Or maybe it's just a result of the whole getting-beaten-the-shit-out-of-him-before-colliding-with-a-river-after-a-fall-of-a-hundred-feet-and-let's-not-forget-about-coughing-water-for-the-last-twenty-minutes but who knows, the Soldier is no expert in that area.

 _"Buck?"_ Echoes at the same time the other version of the man inside the Soldier's head, the smaller and thinner version.

The Soldier replies to both, past and present, with a frown and a glare born out of years of worry.

"You just can't ask for the things you want, can you? You have to scare the living _hell_ outta me all the goddamn time!"

They both stare at each other for what feels like a very long, very unnerving five minutes after that, the Soldier slightly panting after forcing so much on his voice and then... And then the man — the target, Captain America, _Steve_ — let's out a choked laugh and a place inside the Soldier's chest loosens for what feels like the first time in centuries.

* * *

 

_"Have you located the Captain yet?"_

"Negative. Keeping you updated," Natasha answers, finger on her earpiece, before cutting the communication.

She sighs and turns around from where she was standing on the riverbank, trying to guess where every parts of the helicarrier where Steve had last been could have fallen. He had to be alive. He _had_ to. She refuses to imagine a scenario where Steve didn't make it out alive. As much as she's always been careful of not becoming attached to people, or treading carefully whenever she'd started to grow accustomed to someone's presence, she has nonetheless fallen for Steve Rogers' charming, earnest persona. But who wouldn't?

In other words, and despite herself, she's grown _fond_ of him. And nothing's going to happen to him. Because she won't allow it. He is supposed to be indestructible — at least, physically, because she's witnessed what discovering the Winter Soldier's indentity had done to the poor man on an emotional level — right?

Plane crashes and all that... He's already _been there, done that_ , and come out as O.K. as he could get... _right?_

Shaking her head and focusing all her attention on the search, she glances only once at the sky where Fury is still flying over the river in the helicopter they 'borrowed' from S.H.I.E.L.D, looking for any traces of the Captain. Then she quickly treads back to where she and Sam had split, about fifty feet upstream.

She finds Sam already waiting there for her, and he doesn't look like he's gotten any luckier. Nodding silently at each other, they fall in step and proceed to climb the heap of slimy rocks that's blocking their path, Natasha unsurprisingly reaching the top a couple of minutes before Sam.

"Hey, you could give me a hand instead of just... _dashing_ ahead all the time? I mean, I get all the sneaky spy lifestyle but we're-"

Sam suddenly falls silent when he finally reaches the spot where Natasha's standing, because the scenery before them — well, on the other side of the rocks Sam just spent his last stock of energy for the day (the _month_ ) on — is unexpected, to say the least.

"Is... is that-?" He whispers.

"Yes."

"And the-?"

"Yes."

"And they are... they are... oh God, _I can't watch this_ ," Sam all but whines before turning around and covering his eyes, just to be safe.

"Why not?" Natasha asks, and her voice is filled with mirth for a reason Sam isn't really willing to find out.

"Because it's _personal._ And it's _Steve_. I feel... I feel  _dirty!_ "

While he's still busy whining and maybe only enjoying this situation a _tiny bit_ because _come on_ , they've finally found Steve and he looks safe enough, the Winter Soldier is apparently on their side now and the Captain is currently having some enthusiastic make out session right there, Sam still can't look at them because it really feels like that one time he caught his wingman Riley mid-sex, and it was kind of awkward for the both of them after that for weeks and even then, Riley wasn't  _goddamn_ Captain 'Purity' America.

He's about to suggest that they contact Fury, and maybe make their presence known when he catches the faint sound of a camera shutter, right beside him.

Sam turns around, disbelief written all over his face as he watches Natasha with her phone held in front of her, very obviously taking pictures of Captain America and the Winter Soldier **_rolling in the hay like two horny teenagers._** And Sam thinks that last sentence in bolded italic letters because he still can't wrap his mind around it. That it's really happening. In the real world. Okay. Breathe, Wilson.

"I can't believe you're taking pictures." He sounds indignant ( _good_ ), but also a little bit admirative ( _not good, NOT good_ ).

The redhead shrugs and turns to wink at him.

"Just collecting blackmail material. Must be my 'sneaky spy' side."

Sam groans when she throws his words back at him, still shielding his eyes from what's happening below, but he can't help peeking a little through his fingers when he hears Natasha gasp next to him.

"Oh, _thank_ God," he says, relief washing through him when he notices that the Soldier has vanished into thin air while they were looking away and there's only Steve lying there, looking up at them with what Sam hopes is not a murderous glare. Steve is very good at glaring righteously at people and making them want to confess about  _anything_.

He jogs down to where Steve is still lying, without waiting for the spy this time, and when he comes to crouch beside his friend he notices that Steve's face is black and blue and that he's got a patch of what looks like blood on the front of his suit. He winces in sympathy, but isn't very worried about it. Steve can heal at the speed of light.

He still asks, though, "hey, you okay, there? Got us a bit worried for a moment."

He avoids on purpose the subject of the Winter Soldier and the fact that they caught them _necking_ but the way Steve's lips are slightly more red and puffier than usual doesn't make things easy.

Steve smiles sheepishly at him, as if he knows, and slowly, with Sam's help, he sits up.

"Was that... was he... did we really...?" Steve sounds uncertain and Sam groans internally. _Why am I the one doing this. Crap._

"Yeah. In a tight lip-lock with one Russian assassin. What a catch, Captain."

Steve manages to simultaneously glare at him and thank him wordlessly with a smile. Sam just shakes his head and gives him a hand when he tries to stand up.

When Natasha finally cares to join them, Steve's behavior suddenly goes from loose and — let's be honest — looking kind of _high_ on happiness to wary and guarded.

He eyes the spy up and down, and seems to come to some conclusion because he ends up sighing and looking at her like he's just caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.

"How many?" He asks, and Sam's eyes go round because _wow, how did he guess._

But then this is Natasha, who knows everything and has intel on _everybody_ 's life all stocked in some secret cavern somewhere in deep Siberia, so maybe it's not that surprising that Steve would know.

"Only a couple. I promise," Natasha replies, her lips curled into a smirk.

She's not gloating, though, or trying to be menacing. Not this time. In fact, she's happy to see Steve alive. The Winter Soldier revelation is just a bonus. She also finds endlessly amusing the way Steve sighs when he hears about the pictures, and how even if he looks half-dead on his feet he still tries to turn on the pleading puppy eyes on her. She _does_ like always having the upper hand. And she knows Steve will be using those big blues on her every chance he's got until she gives in. But _nu-huh._ He won't get lucky with that. Natasha won't tell him otherwise, though.

"Is your phone at least _safe?_ " he asks, resigned as she comes closer and helps him loop an arm around her shoulders for support, Sam automatically going to his other side.

Natasha would feel insulted by the insinuation that she can't keep her own data safe but the way Steve, a tall and muscular grown man, actually _whines_ like a kid who's not getting what they want is too funny and she can't find it in her to be mad.

"Usually takes me an hour or so only to get to my picture folder, so yeah. I'd say so."

Another righteous sigh, and Sam can't help his laughter as they start making their way back, Natasha busying herself with calling Fury to communicate their coordonates.

"So, you and the Winter Soldier, _youuuu_...?" he says teasingly, voice going higher as he drags out the last word to show his friend that he's making fun of the situation, just to ellicite another sigh from Steve that sends Sam into a new fit of laughter.


End file.
